


Looking Glass

by snarechan



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canonical Character Death, Car Chases, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Humor, Redemption, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: For want of a distraction, Knock Out is, in order: attacked by MECH, taken prisoner by the Autobots, and allied with three of Earth's most annoying creatures. While he may have been better off staying in his medical lab, he does learn quite a few truths about his enemies...and himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maaan, it's been an age and a day since I wrote for Transformers _anything_. This story is, in fact, old itself as I started it maybe the last season of the original TFP run. I was kind of disheartened by the then finale of the series, so my interest tapered off and this story went dormant for a long time as I forgot all about it. 
> 
> My resolution for this year is to go through my backlog of WIPs and start editing, finishing, and posting them. While this story itself isn't _completed_ in its entirety, I want to start archiving what I do have. Re-watching the show to get back into it has reminded me what I _did_ appreciate about the show and I'm really excited to write a different take on events. 
> 
> Beta read by Glyphenthusiast (GoreCorset/CorsetJinx), although any mistakes are my own.

Knock Out attended a race once a week.

Under Starscream's regime he was forbidden from the pastime, but with the reversal of Decepticon ranks Knock Out considered all previous orders 'null and void'. So he resumed his hobby, justifying his actions as a sort of therapy – a way to decompress due to recent circumstances. He owed it to himself after having to put up with not one, but _two_ egomaniacs that thrived on making tyrannical demands. Or so he’d convinced himself.

That's why he'd chosen a beach locale for this particular excursion. He never participated in the same competition twice, wanting to keep things interesting, and a short vacation was in order. Sand was _never_ enjoyable to entertain afterwards, but Knock Out could go for a long, high speed contest as the sun set over the horizon, sending drivers careening into the ocean all the while.

Romanticism was a forte of his, after all.

He arrived on Earth's surface during a shift in the guard, not far from the appointed meeting spot. Humans thought themselves so clever, but Knock Out didn't experience trouble in deducting where such events were held. Leaving the ground bridge in his alternate mode, he drove along the coast until he reached a long, open stretch of road that wound along a series of cliffs that spanned miles of water.

When he turned up, however, the area was empty. _Had he arrived early?_ There were no spectators or other contestants, save him. Knock Out scanned a wide radius, but found nothing except—

A corvette turned the corner at a steady clip and halted beside him. The vehicle was a simple green with black stripes, lacking the gaudy decals or theatrics of the usual participants. Another vehicle followed, this one an SUV that stopped on Knock Out's opposite side. No one in their right consciousness, even a simple-minded species such as humans, would be so foolish as to bring a lumbering piece of junk such as that to a drag race. Earthling authorities, perhaps, but the make and model didn't strike Knock Out as efficient means for accommodating their class or status.

The window of the first car rolled down, revealing a man encased in all black. Protective eyewear was adorned, leaving nothing organic exposed. Months past, Breakdown had gone into detail about his abduction, enough for Knock Out to be aware of what lay ahead during an encounter with a specimen such as this.

MECH had found him, too.

"We know what you are," the man said, forgoing all pretenses. "We have you surrounded."

Knock Out had a cheeky retort at the ready, but after the announcement more cars of similar design took the bend at alarming speeds. His side and rearview mirrors adjusted to take in the two other transports that screeched to a stop and parked behind him, cutting off that mode of escape. Guns appeared from under the hoods and were held by more dark-covered humans, their laser sights focusing on Knock Out's tires. A third vehicle threatened to box him in from the front, coming out of the rocks to his right.

"A setup. How droll," Knock Out said. His gearshift subtly levered to another setting.

"Comply by surrendering or suffer the consequences," the first human threatened.

Engine revving, Knock Out said, "If you want me, then go ahead and _catch me_."

Six seconds later and all hundreds of Knock Out's horsepower were jettisoning him forward. He effortlessly maneuvered around the last car and dinged the trunk with his own, sending the enemy sliding out of control from the force. They crashed into the SUV. While the drivers of both vehicles scrambled to be righted, the remaining three gave chase.

Knock Out led the charge. He smoothly took a corner, using it as a gauge to determine the expertise of his pursuers. All three of the corvettes trailing him screeched as they skid around the bend. The car that contained the man who'd spoken with him, whom Knock Out assumed was in charge, managed to make the turn, as did the second. The last vehicle went too wide and slammed into the guardrail. When the driver went to compensate they steered into a rock outcropping on the opposite side.

One amateur down, two more to go.

He kept on the straightway and accelerated toward the end. There was a growing margin between Knock Out and MECH now, but he hadn't lost them yet. Considering it opportune to up the ante, Knock Out went into an encroaching wooded area. Sand swept into soil, and soil into pine trees as he drove into cover. The bark was an eyesore against his paint job, but it wasn't Knock Out's intent to blend in – it never was.

The road widened, but even so his pursuers risked uneven terrain and undergrowth as they split off. Again, they positioned themselves to each side of Knock Out. Anticipating the tactic, Knock Out stayed his course to the last possible moment.

Tires squealed as both vehicles converged, Knock Out reversing out of harm's way. The two vehicles slammed together with such force that there was a resounding _crunch_ as their respective sides crumpled under each other's might. As an added bonus, the corvettes then crashed into an enormous tree.

Idling a moment to admire his handwork, Knock Out reverted to his bipedal form with a content sigh. He brushed aside some dirt on his shoulder armor. He asked, "Not such an easy feat when your target can fight back, hm?"

That's when Knock Out was shot in the back with an accelerated shock blast.

The pair of MECH units he'd thought were left at the starting line had rejoined them, those in the SUV the ones to surprise attack him. His assailant sent Knock Out right to one knee, shock – literally and figuratively – doing in the rest of him. Knock Out's frame was wracked with tremors from the power surge and he collapsed face first into the ground. A hole in his upper body smoldered from the heat discharge.

Knock Out remained cognitive, if only sparingly. Motor functions were in the process of recovery. His vital commands struggled to maintain their standard operation.

_Estimated time of reboot: 430 seconds._

Out of the corner of Knock Out's flickering sights, the man who'd addressed him crawled free from the wreckage. All that was there to show for his _unfortunate_ survival of events was a long gash on his arm, the blood and torn cloth still concealing the weak epidermis underneath.

"Sir, are you—"

_Estimated time of reboot: 275 seconds._

"Nevermind that! Secure the package and radio in. We should have been ready to ship this thing ten minutes ago."

One of the soldiers swarming the area stepped aside and started speaking into a handset, seeming to coordinate travel plans with an unseen accomplice, while another human persisted in their inquiries.

"Will this work? The wreckage was more severe than anticipated. The data gathered from subject AM-12 didn't account for how poignant munitions of this type would be."

Knock Out's fingers twitched.

_Estimated time of reboot: 90 seconds._

Something pertaining to MECH's whereabouts was muttered in the background of all the chaos when Knock Out's audio receptors cut out. The sensors returned with a sharp squeal to hear, "Stop questioning me! Get to work before the blast wears off and—"

_Estimated time of reboot: COMPLETED_.

Gathering his strength, Knock Out backhanded the nearest combatant into one of their transports. The impact was so hard as to leave a dent. Weapons were drawn on him and alarmed shouts came after.

The cannon that'd put him down was attached to an SUV, thus limited in range. But the handheld guns were also powerful, as Knock Out discovered when the grill portion of his lower abdomen became dented. It elicited a yell from him and retribution in the form of lifting up the SUV attached to the cannon. He tossed it at a cluster of three men taking aim. They scattered for cover, allowing him the chance to retrieve his electric pole weapon.

From there, Knock Out returned the favor from earlier.

He stabbed his way into a green muscle car, the surge from his staff enough to destroy the vehicle and send its inhabitants rolling out in haste. With a heave of his shoulders, Knock Out wrenched his weapon free and tore open the vehicle to render it useless. The driver's side door went flying off into the SUV and embedded itself in the window and surrounding metal.

A sound akin to a high-powered ion rifle activating caught Knock Out's attention in the nick of time to realize that, yes, it _was_ a high-powered ion rifle activating.

"Don't fire, you idiot! We need it _alive_ ," the injured man yelled at his subordinate, pushing the gun aside at the last moment and rendering the shot wide.

Knock Out still needed to lurch out of harm's way to avoid his head getting vaporized. A searing heat grazed his cheek and left a cut from the corner of his mouth to his helm. When Knock Out trailed a finger across the mark there was no energon breech because the injury had been welded from the attack, but his beautiful face was…

Snarling, Knock Out flicked a switch on the pole in his hand. It generated so much electricity that it nearly glowed white. Taking a purposeful step in the two humans' direction, he was stopped by a corvette plowing into him. Off-balance from the impact, Knock Out was sent tumbling down a ravine; kicking up underbrush as he went. He had the sense to power down his staff as he landed in a small stream, eliminating the risk of it causing self harm.

_So much for THAT_ , Knock Out mused. He winced and attempted to right himself. Metal parts of him creaked in protest as Knock Out dragged his frame the rest of the way out of the water. Voices from above alerted him to the fact he was still being tracked.

Calculating his odds, Knock Out's self-diagnostic spit out his current affairs in accordance to his condition. At peak efficiency he could have outdrove them, but as it stood his t-cog couldn't generate the necessary alterations to transform and flee on rubber. Knock Out remained outnumbered and, as he was bitter to discover, outgunned. MECH had vastly been underestimated by the Decepticons, the faction possessing more firepower and cunning than they'd given the Earthlings credit for.

Red notifications bombarded his HUD, the harm Knock Out had sustained starting to affect his performance. There was no choice but to flee on foot. Knock Out blocked his internal warning systems in exchange for better concentration.

He climbed out of the gorge. Bullets hailed Knock Out as soon as he crested the edge, the soldiers seeming to take the man's orders more seriously in an attempt to keep him as functioning as possible. Pity for them Knock Out wasn't as kind.

"Sorry organ donors, but it's time for me to make like a tree and leave!" Knock Out stowed his pole weapon away and altered one hand into a saw blade. He cleaved whole trees in half as he fled northward. The forest grew denser the deeper he traveled, the plant life acting as a shield and taking most of the heavy fire as he continued to spread a trail of obstruction behind him.

"Don't lose it! Contact our air division. Move, move, move!" the lead MECH specialist ordered.

Despite Knock Out's wider strides, during his previous descent his leg had been damaged; he limped over boulders and past trees. The infliction hadn't been extensive to begin with, but the strain Knock Out applied to the wound accelerated the break and forced him to slow. Though it allowed for some distance from the ground troops, Knock Out could identify the sounds of helicopter blades approaching from somewhere in close proximity.

This wouldn't have been so alarming if Knock Out weren't to run out of protective cover. He sped out of one kind of danger and into another as he broke past the line of forest and met with a rock face several stories tall on three sides. Progression barred, Knock Out had no choice but to turn his back toward the stone or risk leaving himself wide open for assault.

As it was, a black helicopter reminiscent of Airachnid flew into view, shining a spotlight directly into his vision and cornering him. The few humans that'd managed to keep up from the fight met up with him, too. He was able to identify the leader as Knock Out shaded his optics with a hand, the man taking up a stance with his hands clasped behind his back and legs apart. "Caught you."

Knock Out sneered, dropping his hand and changing it back into a saw blade, while the other took hold of his staff once more. It was low on static charge, but it was heavy and it was blunt, willing to serve him. The small laser guns Knock Out usually reserved for his alternate mode popped up on each shoulder, locking on the man wearing goggles at the center of the rest.

"Have you _really?_ " Knock Out asked.

The human appeared un-intimidated by Knock Out's show of defiance, going so far as to not even flinch as the Decepticon's armaments took aim at him. He raised a hand and motioned with two fingers for his squadron to resume their attack.

Then the real battle started in earnest.


	2. Chapter 2

Nestled at an undisclosed location in the outskirts of Nevada, a mercenary facility flourished. This was but one of many secluded outposts across the United States, consisting of a cluster of dark, nondescript warehouses. In the centermost unit, a man dressed in a black lab coat stood gazing at flashing computer monitors and television screens.

Another person entered, the scientist equally concealed in black attire and sporting a deep gash along one arm. He waited to be acknowledged before addressing the other man, despite his presence having been announced quite clearly by his heavy footsteps and labored breathing.

"Sir, the mission has… _failed_. We were unable to retrieve subject EZ-14." When there was no response, he said, "Will…the test still be successful?"

A beat, and then the man standing at the machines said, "We can't afford to wait any longer – the window of opportunity has closed. The experiment will simply have to resume on schedule."

"But sir, without additional parts our chances are significantly impacted! The risks are—"

"It's exactly because of what's at stake that we must proceed. The consequences of prolonging the trial far outweigh what we hope to gain from all of this," the man interrupted crossly.

"…Yes, of course." The newcomer hesitated. "Shall I retrieve the doctor?"

"Affirmative."  
  
  
  
  
In the back of his mind, Knock Out knew he was resting on a medical bed. He'd experienced his fair share of the uncomfortable fixture during the war, and as a medical officer he recognized the indicators even when booting up cold. There were wires jacked into his neural network and tubes connected to various parts of him, one an energon line revitalizing his supply.

The thing of it that caused Knock Out to lash out didn't come until _after_ witnessing his newfound situation: it was his specific whereabouts. His surroundings were in extreme contrast to where he'd expected to find himself waking up; this was not the Nemesis. The interior of the ship was dreary but high-tech, whereas the scene that greeted his shuttering optics was industrial, sparse, and well-lit.

There were also Autobot insignias _everywhere._

Startled and a little desperate, Knock Out reached up a hand and ripped a clump of wires free. The action hurt him a great deal as he forcibly disconnected and some of the ends caught. With the loss of readings to the different equipment he'd been hooked up to, alarm sirens blared.

"What in the Allspark?" a voice somewhere to Knock Out's left shouted.

He recognized who it was before he deigned to turn his head in Ratchet's direction, the rival physician no doubt summoned by the sounds of Knock Out's haphazard handiwork. His jaw gritted together as the task of freeing himself from the medical apparatus became sloppily executed. Knock Out refused to be caught sitting down in front of the enemy like this.

"Enough!" Ratchet snapped. Under his breath, he mumbled how much nicer it'd been while Knock Out was offline. "Calm down! If we'd intended—"

As soon as Knock Out removed the large hose adhered to his chest, he struck. He planted both hands on the edges of the table and slid off into a crouch. Springing from the position, Knock Out was able to knee the Autobot in the midsection to distract him, and then Knock Out tried to reformat his arm into a drill.

Nothing about the appendage changed.

Error messages popped up and flooded the field of vision in his left optic. Knock Out winced and mentally cursed his lack of foresight: _of course_ the enemy faction would disengage his gear! He resorted to hand-to-hand combat, his ineptitude at the tactic revealed as Ratchet easily deflected most of his punches. Knock Out had lost his advantage of surprise.

He was resilient, however, and in the end Knock Out overpowered the other medic. A wrench resided on a nearby work table and Knock Out snatched it, bringing the tool to bear on Ratchet's face once, twice, and thrice as he rapidly wielded it in both directions. The Autobot collapsed to the floor, stunned.

Knock Out held his makeshift weapon threateningly as he demanded, "Unlock my weapons systems – _now!_ "

"Not likely!" Ratchet said. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, despite Knock Out planting a foot near his neck and applying pressure.

"I know you've encoded them! Tell me how to undo your—"

The rest of the team was incoming. Knock Out could identify the echo of tires. Scowling at the intrusion, Knock Out took too long debating on whether to hold Ratchet hostage or beat a hasty retreat because the decision was taken from him. Said Autobot grabbed him by the ankle and _twisted_ , tossing him aside. Off balance, Knock Out was forced to give up his hold.

"Bumblebee, be careful!" Ratchet forewarned.

Regardless, Knock Out was able to get in a good toss as the yellow Camaro zoomed into range. The wrench connected, and Bumblebee buzzed in dismay as he swerved from the strike. Soon after, Knock Out discovered he still couldn't transform, and was forced to run on foot once again. Flippantly, he said, "I'd love to stay and chat, but…no, honestly, I actually wouldn't."

He picked a path at random, jumping off the top most platform and onto the two levels below. He was pursued down a tunnel by the motorbike, Arcee, and her lumbering associate, Bulkhead. The carved stone walls gave way to metal-lined ones with numbered indicators on them. The directions were useless, Knock Out quickly finding himself lost.

The smaller Cybertronian, swifter on two wheels, was able to make stride with him. Arcee slid across the floor mid-transformation, swiping both legs out from under Knock Out. When she charged him in a second instance, he rolled out of reach. Unable to correct her trajectory, she collided with a low vent in the wall and tumbled down a shaft. Knock Out laid there in stunned silence before taking advantage of his good fortune and resuming his getaway.

Bulkhead, still at his back, trudged determinedly after him. While Knock Out ran down random hallways, the green off-roader had no difficulty tracking him. Probably he was given instructions by whoever was manning the cameras surveying the base. Knock Out ducked into a corridor, missing the door marked 'Safe' and the warning attached, hoping to temporarily buy himself a reprieve.

Instead, Knock Out discovered a wide open room.

"Oh, _honestly_ ," he hissed, glancing around for any possible egress. There was none but the way he'd come, which was now blocked by Bulkhead's bulk.

Knock Out placed a hand on his chest and assumed his best impression of defenselessness, asking, "You wouldn't hit an unarmed adversary, would you?"

"You're joking, right?" Bulkhead raised an eye ridge at him.

"Can't blame me for trying," he said, before raising a fist.

The Autobot took the hit to his jaw, absorbing the strike and utilizing the momentum in his own swing. He was sporting a wrecking ball for a hand and Knock Out ducked under it. When it'd passed completely over him, Knock Out leapt onto Bulkhead's back. He had to wrap his entire arm up to the elbow around the larger Cybertronian's neck to keep a good grasp. Even so, while Bulkhead thrashed to toss him off, Knock Out had to tighten the hold to keep from being flung every which way.

"Why do you Decepticons have to make everything so complicated?" Bulkhead yelled.

"Not our fault your CPUs can't process surrender," Knock Out replied, just as Bulkhead stepped backwards into a wall and crushed him against the surface. Something cracked, though it wasn't any part of Knock Out – a case of some kind attached to the frame beside the door had been pulverized by their combined weight.

" _Attention: difficulty level reset to eleven. All participants please ready for field test zero-one-five-one._ "

Both individuals froze at the automated response that filled the air. Knock Out was the first to move, in the form of inclining his head to meet Bulkhead's gaze. "Was that…a _combat simulation_ announcement?"

"Whoops," was all Bulkhead had to say, followed by metal rods rising from the floor and rounds of some kind being loaded.

Knock Out and Bulkhead screamed in unison as they were fired upon, and he clung to the Autobot for an entirely different reason as they had to dive for protective cover. Unfortunately for them, defenses were limited and they ended up having to share tight quarters. Knock Out hunched lower as his only remaining shoulder guard was struck by an armor piercing bullet.

As his side, Bulkhead activated his communicator and spoke into it. "Ratchet! Is the Safe fixed yet? … What do you mean you _only_ got as far as the training equipment? … No, I get that it takes time… Look, we're under heavy fire here and you have to deactivate it _somehow!_ "

"You can't turn it off?" Knock Out asked shrilly, leaning in close enough to speak into Bulkhead's other audio. His fingers dug into the Autobot's arm. "What morons have an operational battle simulator that can't be _shut down?_ "

Bulkhead ignored him, but only just. "The setting is a lot higher than last time, Ratchet! I can't bust out of here with this red deadweight—"

"And whose fault is that?" Knock Out deadpanned.

From an opening in the ceiling, Arcee descended from the ventilation system and landed on top of an activated battle post. She blew it to pieces with her double arm guns. Arcee agilely jumped onto another, letting the system do the work for her as a third device focused on her. The blast radius of its discharge took out her deadly perch. She flipped onto several others, the training guns experiencing the same fate. In a similar fashion, Arcee was able to defeat the entire course by herself.

Knock Out and Bulkhead gaped at her and the surrounding carnage, then the entrance as the doors unlocked and opened.

"Don't you dare," Bulkhead warned, his optics slitting as he caught Knock Out spying a way out.

Of course, Knock Out _dared_.

Lurching forward, Bulkhead unwittingly created a great platform for Knock Out to propel himself up, over, and closer to the exit. On the run again, his systems began to experience fatigue. The burst of energy he'd gained from waking was wearing off; overheating was becoming a serious possibility. If Knock Out didn't find a means of escape or a spot to hang low soon, he'd collapse.

Up ahead, bright lights signaled that the tunnel was coming to an end. Putting on his final burst of speed, Knock Out rushed into the room. It was the same place he'd woke up in. Somehow, he'd come full circle.

A pair of strong arms grabbed him, holding Knock Out clear off the ground. He struggled against the powerful hold, kicking and protesting. A hand managed to wriggle free and he planted his palm squarely on the face of

Optimus Prime.

Knock Out had been apprehended by the _Prime_.

His resistance multiplied, Knock Out's desperation causing the Autobot leader to amend his grip. It was no use – he was no closer to being released against Optimus Prime’s superior strength.

"Calm yourself. We mean you no harm," Optimus Prime urged, his voice distinct enough to be heard over Ratchet's shouting. The reverberations cut clear through Knock Out's chassis, rattling his loose parts.

Arcee and Bulkhead ambled in; her arm cannons remained at the ready and Bulkhead wheezed slightly after her. Bumblebee, sporting a new set of scrapes across his hood compliments of Knock Out's lucky toss from earlier, was beeping and making rapid hand gestures. Despite the commotion, Optimus steadfastly tried to subdue Knock Out, stumbling somewhat as his protests intensified.

"What in the name of Uncle Sam's beard is going on in here?" someone bellowed over the din.

Stillness occurred throughout, as did utter silence. Knock Out turned his head to behold the wielder of such power, and only saw a stout human dressed sloppily in a grey business suit.

"Agent Fowler," Optimus Prime greeted, sounding dignified despite the hand pressing in on his face.

"Care to explain what is going on here?" the man known as Agent Fowler asked, not even remotely as courteous. "And it better be _good_ , because there best not be a Decepticon in this U. S. sanctioned base of operations for no reason!"

To Knock Out's continued confusion, the Autobots appeared almost cowed.

"We…rescued him?" Bulkhead volunteered, although he sounded unsure. Where the human couldn't detect the gesture, Ratchet closed both eyes and pinched his bridge plate. "From MECH, I mean. And uh."

"That's not how _I_ recall it!" Knock Out snapped.

"And what _do_ you remember?" Arcee asked, optics narrowed. "We found you barely functioning and half-delirious out in those woods."  
  
  
_The stone at the base of the mountain was the sole benefactor to Knock Out standing upright._

_There were car parts and weapons and bodies strewn everywhere, transmission fluid and energon splattered across all of it._

_And more reinforcements were coming; they just kept_ coming _. Headlights joined the helicopter hovering over him._

 _"Autobots, roll out!"  
  
  
_" _Kidnapped_ is a more accurate assessment," Knocked Out evaded.

"Rescued!" Ratchet emphasized, finally approaching him and slapping on a pair of handcuffs. The restraints were revealed to be stasis-inducing; Knock Out felt the effects as soon as both wrists were bound. His motor functions became sluggish as his field was interfered with. Optimus Prime set him down on the same medical bed as before.

"Prisoner, then," Agent Fowler supplied with finality. "So, do I ask what happened? Might as well get our stories straight."

Everyone turned towards Knock Out. While he would normally revel in the attention, this was an exception. Aiming to be as uncooperative as possible, he asked, "What?"

"Out with it!" Arcee said, waving one of her arms. She'd yet to revert the guns to hands. "Spill already. What happened out there?"

"Since you requested _so_ nicely," he said, layering the sarcasm on thick, "I'll have you know I was but an innocent victim in all of this. I was minding my own business when _MECH_ attacked _me._ "

"You're far from innocent," she harrumphed.

"Be that as it may, I was merely acting in self-defense," Knock Out argued.

"MECH intentionally sought you out? Why?" Optimus Prime asked what they all must be thinking. Even Knock Out, although he wouldn't reveal such information.

"Ah yes, I was sure to ask them that in the middle of our minor tiff. Between the mass firepower they launched at me and their overwhelming numbers it was all I could do to keep them from spilling their guts," he said.

Agent Fowler cleared his throat to break the awkward silence induced by his morbid response. "All right, so for some reason MECH did a number on this guy. Now what? Keeping him here is a liability, not to mention when _those_ three find out—"

An engine revved in the distance, Knock Out identifying the make, model, and horsepower by sound alone. He was in the process of breaking down the Cybertronian modifications made to the human version to produce such a distinct noise when Smokescreen rounded the corner, toting the notorious trio of Earthling youths the Autobots kept as pets. Knock Out was beyond reasoning what novelty would compel the enemy to keep such creatures and spared little thought to them.

 _Too late_ , Bumblebee transmitted, not that Agent Fowler had any way of deciphering his whistling soundbytes as the last of the Autobots' merry trope of misfits arrived.

Just when Knock Out had convinced himself things couldn't get any worse.


	3. Chapter 3

As per usual, the odds were not in Knock Out's favor. He was alone in enemy territory, health at an all-time low, without access to his many weapons and tools. Knock Out was also surrounded by six Autobots, an American government agent and, worst of all, three of the most diabolical and obnoxious adversaries known across the universe:

"We're baaack!" a human female with two-toned pigtails announced, jumping out of Smokescreen's passenger seat. "And you won't guess how fast we had to race that train to get… Huh, that looks like Knock Out! What's _he_ doing here?"

The youth's hands went to her hips as she regarded him. Her two companions exited the white Autobot without a word and allowed him to change back to his bipedal form. Smokescreen rubbed the back of his helm, wondering aloud what he'd missed. "How come I'm never around for the exciting stuff, huh?"

At the same time, the little girl asked, "And what happened to him? He looks like Bulkhead took him on at _Monster Truck Fest_ and won. Did you, Bulkhead? I bet you did!"

 _Children_ , Knock Out groused, it taking all his willpower not to beg and be put out of his misery. He knew better than to present the opportunity to be offlined, since half the forces here were trigger-happy and tempted as it stood.  
  
  
  
  
"Are you sure you comprehend what you're doing?" Knock Out asked later, observing Ratchet with a critical eye.

He'd been left to the Autobot's tender mercies while Agent Fowler and Optimus Prime left to confer, no doubt outlining his extended imprisonment. The rest were dismissed to carry out their assigned duties, the kids his only other company. Knock Out reasoned it to another kind of enemy-brand torture.

"I'm the chief medical officer of this team, and was the top of my class! Of course I know what I'm doing," Ratchet grumbled. To his credit he didn't falter in his tinkering on the worst of Knock Out’s acquired lesions, but he remained unimpressed, not to mention _unconvinced_ , by such questionable standards and credentials. He said as much, causing Ratchet's optic to blink in an agitated tick.

Knock Out was surprised that his pain receptors were dimmed, allowing him to pinpoint the work being done, but limiting his discomfort. _Pathetic_. He was still unable to move, and being under such scrutiny had him anxious. He wasn't sure why any of this was even an occurrence to begin with. The abduction, maybe. As a higher ranked official in the Decepticon army, he was privy to certain intelligence.

But Megatron was no fool – he trusted no one, except for perhaps Soundwave, with the finer details of his mad schemes. Such points were kept secret or only revealed in part. If the Autobots wanted anything specific they'd be sorely disappointed, and no amount of care would compel Knock Out to confess. Unless they desired for the finer points of buffing technology or interrogation techniques, Knock Out knew very little else that would be of use to them.

"Where did you say you acquired your expertise again?" Knock Out pressed.

"I'll have you know I trained at Iacon's top academy, and headed the foremost medical division on Cybertron before helping the cause," Ratchet defended. "And if you haven't noticed, I've done an excellent job at maintaining my crew against the lot of _you_."

"Hmph. Yes, I suppose you've performed adequately well. Under the given circumstances, granted."

The Autobot paused mid-adjustment to give Knock Out a pointed stare. " _Adequate?_ "

"Don't fret, it's clear that – despite your dependence on a code of ethics and such _limited_ resources – you have performed some small miracles," Knock Out permitted.

Ratchet's expression was clearly aghast as he said, " _Puh-lease_ , at least I'm not some hacksaw scientist posing as a health professional!"

"You obsolete quack!"

"Flashy miscreant!"

"Will you two just _stop?_ "

Ratchet startled, seemingly coming back to himself, and together he and Knock Out turned to look at the trio of humans that'd been watching them go back and forth. The group resided on a small, upraised area and were scattered across it in various positions. The tiniest of them sat half-hidden behind his laptop monitor, with the female pressed up against the railing with her legs dangling through them and over the side. By the little boy's flustered appearance, it had been him that'd spoken. The last, the other boy who was most often spotted with Arcee, stood aloof toward the back.

"Yeah! Aren't we supposed to be the immature ones?" the girl asked.

The both of them scoffed – Knock Out in disdain and Ratchet in exasperation – and then glared at each other in identical gestures, however unintentional that'd been on their parts. Knock Out said, "Why? It's not my fault this relic of a surgeon can't keep up with the trends of _modern_ techniques."

"Hey!" she said, coming to Ratchet's defense. "He might not be as fast as you, or as sleek, or—"

"Miko!" Ratchet snapped.

"Point is, he's awesome at what he does and I bet you're just jealous that he's twice – no,  _five times_ a better mechanic than you'll ever be," the girl, Miko, finished.

"Chief medical officer," Ratchet corrected, although he did so softly. He reluctantly went back to repairs.

"Jealous?" Knock Out barked a laugh, managing to jostle Ratchet with his reaction. "Surely you're joking, chica. What do I have to envy? Might I remind you that while the Autobots squander for assets and are spread thin, the Decepticons are equipped with endless resources. We are an armada, and I have countless technology at my disposal to accompany my vast talents."

"Those same 'squandering Autobots' are what spared you," Ratchet pointed out, and unexpectedly connected an energon line, which caused Knock Out to hiss.

"Speaking of…where are they?" the dark-haired boy asked, speaking up for the first time. "I mean, shouldn't they be searching for you by now?"

"That's right!" the other boy said. He adjusted his glasses as he examined his computer screen. "According to this, we only found you because we detected heavy MECH signatures, but there's been no signs of your friends."

That came as no surprise, given that Knock Out had never contacted his ship. He wasn't supposed to be planet-side to begin with; now it was more pertinent than ever to have visits sanctioned, of which Knock Out rarely bothered with. Megation would have been displeased at discovering that not only had Knock Out left the Nemesis without his explicit permission, but lost to mere organics.

He hadn't transmitted for a ground bridge or assistance, determined to win on his own to at least possess his dignity, or bide his time. There was no one to miss him now, not unless someone needed medical attention. His disappearance would not be noticed.

The oldest child wet his lips and readied to speak, but Knock Out was saved from whatever else he had to say by Optimus Prime's return, minus Agent Fowler. "How fairs our guest?"

"Dissatisfied," Knock Out answered in their stead, earning him more of the other doctor's pleasant bedside manner. "I've seen better service in the slums of Kaon."

" _Lively_ ," Ratchet gritted out. "He's stable now and liable to make a full recovery, Allspark help us all."

"Then until such a time as we can determine a proper course of action, we will provide you with accommodations," Optimus Prime informed him.

The stasis-cuffs were still adorned as Knock Out was led through the twisting hallways, eventually leading up to a new portion of the base. Not that it mattered, given how unfamiliar the rest of it was. A stark, metal room with a slab for a bed was all that was given – not so different from the Nemesis, save perhaps a tad brighter in atmosphere.

Ratchet had been the one to escort him, and it was a relief to arrive if only because the Autobot removed his restraints and let go of his arm, no longer needing to support Knock Out as he did during their journey. He informed Knock Out of future ration periods and further repairs, keeping his words clipped, and left him alone to his own devices.

Knock Out stood in place a good while, idly rubbing the flexibility back into one wrist. He moved over to the bed, running a hand along its surface before taking a seat. Sorely, he wished for some of his personal instruments – sandpaper or paint or wax, to pass the time and distract himself. Right then, all Knock Out had were his thoughts, and they were no better company than the children or Autobots had been.


	4. Chapter 4

In the suburbs of Jasper, Nevada, a swirling blue and green portal disturbed the calm of an enclosed garage. Arcee, toting Jack in the rider's seat, screeched to a halt on the cement and left a long streak of tire tracks. Her partner didn't wrench his helmet off until they came to a complete stop, shaking out his mottled hair. Although the trip took no longer than ten minutes, Jack's mother insisted he adorn the protective headgear. Arcee was a competent driver, but she enforced Ms. Darby's wishes.

Today he could understand why it might be necessary.

"Hey, can you take it easy, please? No need to take out your frustrations on the floor. It was hard enough explaining the black marks the first time," Jack said.

With the garage door still fixated down, Arcee didn't hesitate in transforming into a crouch. In such tight confines she was unable to do more than bow her head and rest one elbow on her knee. The metal protrusions that sprouted from her back shifted as Arcee tried to relax, but it was obvious she remained uptight.

"Sorry," she said, sounding a tad distracted. Most likely she was still keyed into Autobot HQ for any news that carried across their encrypted airwaves, listening in with half attention in case trouble arose from their unwelcome guest. For that, Jack couldn't say as he blamed her. He was nervous at the prospect of a Decepticon staying behind, too.

"Jack, honey? Is that you?"

Turning towards the house, Jack witnessed his mom emerging from the kitchen door and fiddling in her purse as she stepped out. She was wearing her customary work scrubs, the green nursing uniform one of several identical clothes she owned. Not for the first time Jack wished she could be casual for once, maybe get out more with friends, but it was an old argument they didn't bring up too often anymore.

"Yeah, mom?" Jack asked.

"I'm going— Oh! Hello, Arcee," his mom quickly changed her tune and greeted the giant robot. She waved at Arcee with her car keys in hand. "It's a late night for me you two, so no partying while I'm gone!"

"Geez, come on…" Jack grimaced.

His mom laughed, kissing him on the forehead. "Just kidding, I know you're a good kid. There's leftover dinner in the fridge, and don't forget to study for your math exam tomorrow. Remember, if you don't earn a passing grade—"

"All right, fine, I'll eat and cram right away!" Jack promised, if only to usher his mother along.

Ms. Darby waved again, and waited until Arcee reverted into a motorcycle before opening the garage door to enter her own car. She reversed into the street. This time Jack waved back. When his mom had driven out of sight, one of Arcee's side view mirrors tilted in his direction.

"You didn't want to tell her?" Arcee asked.

"Tell her about _what?_ " Jack feigned idleness by busying with putting his helmet away on the workbench.

"About the _Decepticon_ we're harboring," she emphasized, not bothering to pretend. "Don't you think she deserves to know the whereabouts of Knock Out where you're concerned?"

"What's to tell? Do you even know what's involved?" Her silence was telling enough. "Yeah. No use scaring mom, ya know? Parents have too much to be concerned about as it is without us kids adding to it."

"I don't think that's how it's supposed to work." Arcee didn't dwell on the topic, however, and confessed, "I don't understand why Optimus doesn't let us in on what he's thinking. Keeping Knock Out captive is dangerous. It would've been easier to leave him for the Decepticons to find."

The rare insight gave Jack pause. Over time they'd come to a sort of understanding where they could confide in each other, but rarely was it personal on Arcee's part. He wasn't certain why she kept her inner thoughts so private. Jack just knew that whenever Arcee did open up he took the matter seriously, and tried to consider his words carefully.

"Maybe," he hedged. His fingers tapped on his helmet in thought as he took a seat on the nearby stool. "Well, probably, but Optimus has to have his reasons. Right? I thought Ratchet said he couldn't treat Knock Out's injuries outside the lab and he might not have made it if he were left in the forest to be found. I mean, what if MECH had come back for him?"

"I get that, given that I was _there_ ," Arcee reminded him, though there wasn't any real bite to her words. "He just better not cause any more fuss. That'll be the last time I ever crawl around in those cramped ducts if I can help it."

Jack laughed, turning in the seat so his back rested against the desk. "Aw, come on! In that video Bulkhead showed us, of you falling into the—"

"Don't you have a test to be prepping for?" Arcee asked, and angled toward the door meaningfully. Groaning, Jack had no other choice but to comply.  
  
  
  
  
_Helplessness wasn't in Knock Out's vocabulary, but this felt an awful lot like it. With his senses spotty and movements limited, he was_ precariously _close to being rendered as such. But Decepticons were notorious survivalists, in one form or another. Starscream had his tenacity and Megatron his determination, with Soundwave rounding out the officers with his logic. They hadn't reached their rank by mere luck, and neither had Knock Out._

_His was something else, and he wondered if this was how it came down for Breakdown, too. Probably not – he was even less like the rest of them. Breakdown hadn't relied on a single focus to carry him through a mission or day-to-day. Knock Out had observed the behavior, but never speculated about it until now, when there was little else to do but watch the clock tick down. How had Breakdown stood up to this? It was maddening to have to listen—_

_"Will this work? The wreckage was more severe than anticipated. The data gathered from subject AM-12 didn't account for how poignant munitions of this type would be."_

_—and do_ nothing. _The humans were so close, their physical forms flickering as weak thermal imaging, night vision, and x-ray without Knock Out's consent. He tried regaining his range of motion, but his programming would have none of it._

_"MECH Base One, d … you co … y?" Knock Out hated that voice, and he hated the man that it belonged to equally, if not more so. It signaled that his time was running out. "I re … peat, MECH B … do y … copy, over? … Yes, we … ready to drop o … the target at your lo—"_

"Hey, Knock Out!" Pounding on his cell door alerted Knock Out that he had a visitor. He awoke with a soft gasp, this round doing nothing for his nerves. Even after becoming aware, it took a long sweep of his whereabouts before the memory logs faded and Knock Out was back in the Autobot cell.

"Hey, I asked if you're awake in there. Respond, or I'm coming in and you won't like it if I do."

It was Bulkhead, no one else seemingly up to the task of seeing to their captive. Yawning, Knock Out stretched and took to replying at his own leisure. "How could anyone sleep through such a racket? Or with these accommodations, for that matter. They're deplorable."

The Autobot grunted and said, "Suck it up. They're better than what you would have afforded us, if our places were switched."

Knock Out shrugged, whether or not Bulkhead could actually see the gesture. He wasn't about to refute the claim, regardless.

Growing impatient, Bulkhead said, "Come on, up and at'em. It's feeding time."   

He approached the door, where a handful of energon cubes were passed to Knock Out through the bars in a window cutout. His lip curled at the meager offering, and he was about to let Bulkhead know in no uncertain terms how _sad_ he considered their reserves to be when he noticed that Bulkhead had turned away, probably intent on leaving him.

"Wait!" Knock Out's outburst startled the both of them, neither really expecting it. He tried to play it off by leaning his shoulder on the wall and idly popping one of the cubes in his mouth. "So, how fairs our resident doctor in finishing my repairs? I'm a sensitive and delicate piece of specialized equipment, you realize. I mustn’t be kept waiting."

Bulkhead was eyeing him suspiciously through the window, probably thrown off by Knock Out's lack of a derogatory nickname for Ratchet. To be honest, he'd be apprehensive in the other Cybertronian's place if it were him.

" _Ratchet_ is low on some supplies and will need to gather some stuff before he can work on you some more. You'll just have to be patient."

"And any news on those MECH ruffians?"

"Not yet," Bulkhead supplied, then more sternly, "Why? What do you care? You should know more than we do at this point."

"Oh, I do," he lied conversationally. Knock Out tossed another energon cube in the air, catching it effortlessly in his mouth. "But does it really surprise you that I might have a vindictive streak? Not that I'm contemplating payback or anything. That would just be _petty._ "

At that 'confession', Bulkhead eased up on his glowering. Apparently it didn't take a whole lot to convince him of normalcy. He mirrored Knock Out's stance and rested against the opposite side of the wall, crossing both arms across his front. "Good, because don't get your hopes up. We're not letting you out of here any time soon. We'll deal with those goons _our way_ , so you can forget all about it."

"How quaint," Knock Out drawled, considering no such thing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ms. June? What are you still doing here?"

Gasping quietly, June had to control herself from almost slamming her patient's door closed. She'd finally helped the little girl to get some sleep after calming her stomach ache and didn't want to repeat the entire escapade. When she turned to discover who'd addressed her, June's demeanor immediately changed to that of embarrassment.

"Hello Jordan. You almost gave me a heart attack!" she said, her fingers loosening on her clipboard. It was just her supervisor – a kindly, older doctor that tended to work this wing on late nights. They'd had many shifts together, so June had no problem chastising herself for being spooked this easily.

He chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. The cardiac specialist has gone home for the night. Which brings me back to my earlier question: weren't you supposed to clock out an hour ago?"

A sharp glance at her watch revealed that _yes_ , she should have left as her shift had ended.

"I can't believe I lost track that badly," June confessed, and hurried toward her desk down the corridor. "I'm so sorry! I got caught up with—" Jordan laughed again, trailing after her and leaning on the counter to watch her rush around gathering her things and preparing the station for her absence. His calming demeanor reminded June to slow down, her body slumping into her roller chair with some defeat. "But I'm sure you already figured that out, right?"

"And how. The children appreciate your help the most, but I don't think they'd be happy if you ran yourself down. Come on, I'm on the way out. I'll escort you to your car."

"Thanks, Jordan." And she meant it. This wasn't the first instance where June needed a reminder. Her own son stepped in once or twice or almost _every day_ to drop off fast food from his part-time job because she'd left in a hurry and forgotten to pack a lunch. Or Jack would ask when she'd be coming home because all the days and weeks went by without her noticing. The thought weighed on her for the hundredth time and she vowed to make it up to Jack sometime soon; hopefully over a family dinner shared at the table for once.

As if reading her mind, Jordan asked, "So how's that boy of yours? Has he graduated yet?"

"Hardly," she said, tone wry. "He'll be seventeen soon and I almost can't stand it. Convincing a teenage boy to concentrate on his homework is like—"

Rubber peeling on asphalt cut off her statement. Jordan and her own footsteps halted in the middle of the pavement outside the hospital glass doors. Two cars, identical down to the very same paint jobs, burned out in proximity to them. Both medical staff tensed, June already grabbing her nursing kit from her purse in preparation for an emergency when several men decked completely in black exited their vehicles. Each of them, worryingly enough, carried a gun.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jordan demanded as he was accosted by two of the armed men. "This is a hospital, you can’t have those weapons here!"

A man in goggles ignored his comments, instead asking, "Mr. Jordan Islam, you were an engineer prior to settling on becoming a doctor. Is that correct?"

"I… Yes." Jordan floundered for a second, his gaze flitting between the armed men. "But what does my background have to do with anything? How do you even know who I am?"

The interrogator didn't reply, except to incline his head toward one of the cars. Jordan was manhandled into the backseat, one of the men directing him going so far as to knock him in the head when his struggling became too cumbersome to their liking.

"Please, don't hurt him. He's got lives here that depend on him!" June's pleas were ignored. Another one of the thugs pressed a handgun to her temple, rendering her speechless.

"What are your orders? Should we kill this witness?" the man threatening her asked the individual in goggles. Her blood froze at the implication, just as the man who she presumed was his boss shook his head.

He motioned for her to be detained in the same car as Jordan, citing, "No, the good doctor will require assistance with our assignment. She's as solid a candidate as anyone. Take her with us."

"No! Unhand me," she screamed, dropping her purse to free up her hands and give the man holding her a fight. He had no trouble hefting June by her upper arms and tossing her into the back of the car, slamming the door and cutting off any further chance of escape. She pounded her hands on the window and found it reinforced – most certainly bulletproof. The door handle didn’t budge regardless of her attempts.

Beyond the car, June spotted her purse on the ground. Its contents were spilled everywhere, including a tiny contraption no larger than a compact mirror. She'd intentionally stamped down on it with the heel of her foot, the button on top compressed with a light flashing in the corner. As they drove away and the sight got smaller and smaller, at least June felt comforted knowing help would soon be coming.  
  
  
  
  
"You know, Hatchet. I can call you that, right?" Knock Out had no intention of allowing his tormentor to get a word in, edgewise, and went on to say, "I've come to look forward to our visits."

"Is that so?" Ratchet said. He didn't look up from his soldering work, which just wouldn't do.

"The sights, the riveting verbal exchanges – yes, you're a vastly more engaging conversationalist than your other, dear companions. I rather get the impression they don't enjoy my presence like you do."

"I can't fathom why," Ratchet hummed, still not wavering in his task.

"Don't be coy, _you daft rust bucket_ ," Knock Out snapped, fed up with the lack of a rise in the Autobot. Due to his containment in enemy territory, he was feeling rather anxious as he'd yet to unsettle his captors in kind. Compounded with Ratchet's close workings on his more intricate, internal parts it was becoming harder to remain even remotely civil. "I still don't understand why you won't allow _me_ to do this. My service record more than qualifies me for the task of maintaining myself!"

Now Ratchet did glance in his direction, his lip raised in what Knock Out was certain to be some kind of semi-permanent fixture around him. "You honestly believe we would permit you plasma cutters or energon serrated scalpels? Now who's acting daft?"

A rapid series of sirens went off and dismantled their impending debate. The emergency lights and noise weren't Cybertronian fare, but it wasn't hard for Knock Out to surmise that their meaning was the same as protocols on the Decepticon spaceship. Somewhere, there was trouble. Strapped down as he was, Knock Out couldn't do more than swivel his head around and side-eye the various warning systems.

"What's this all about? Are you under attack?" Knock Out couldn't hide his excitement at the prospect.

Ratchet jumped out of his seat and made haste toward a giant computer station. Until it started flashing and beeping, data spilling out across the screen, Knock Out thought it was just a giant hunk of scrap thrown together in the corner. He didn't consider himself wholly wrong, even after seeing it function. Such antique hardware could hardly be _that_ useful.

The Autobot analyzed the information; the blues of his eyes rapidly darted from side-to-side. What he studied must be of serious concern because Knock Out heard him curse. Ratchet began typing, windows popping up across the screen: video feeds and satellite imagery and a whole slew of more text, Earthling and Cybertronian alike.

Clearing his throat, Knock Out asked, "Well? Should I begin celebrating my emanate release or my demise?"

"Quiet, you!" Ratchet said, before resuming his frantic ministrations. His input had to be done one-handed as he used the other to contact his team and request their presence. Everyone save Arcee, who must not have returned after escorting her pet human to his playpen, reconvened in the main lobby.

"My friend, what seems to be the issue?" Optimus Prime asked, the first to enter the room. Despite the urgency of the situation, he remained composed in his inquiries.

Knock Out idly listened, but Ratchet must have suspected his intent to eavesdrop. He waved a hand and instructed Bulkhead to take care of him. "See that our patient—"

" _Detainee_ ," Knock Out corrected him.

"—is taken back to his room. This is strictly Autobot business!"

"You heard the doc'," Bulkhead said, folding his fingers inside a hand with a purposeful crackle and pop of his joints realigning. "You gonna come peacefully, or do we need to do this my way?"

"What's my third option?" Knock Out asked.

Bulkhead grunted and hefted Knock Out over a broad shoulder, neither fazed nor acknowledging his commentary. Knock Out’s kicking and squirming was for show, anyway, to hide his angling for a better view of the monitor. He didn't catch much, except for black and white stills of two dark corvettes being driven by none other than MECH personnel.


	6. Chapter 6

"I still don't know about this," Raf said, lagging behind his two companions as he retained a firm grip on his laptop. Even closed, the computer took much of his efforts to carry. "Why can't we wait for the Autobots to learn more before going to save Jack's mom?"

Just ahead, Miko's walk had that tip-toe, jump-step they were familiarized with. She was determined on a course of action and there was no talking Miko out of her goal, but Raf felt inclined to try. His friend twirled so she was facing him, walking backwards without missing a beat.

"You kidding? The longer we wait, the longer Jack's mom is in deadly peril! Arcee, Smokescreen, and Ratchet are still at the hospital looking for clues, and there's no telling if Prime or Agent Fowler have made any progress. Bulkhead and Wheeljack haven't reported back, either! It's obviously up to us to deal with this," she said. Grinning, Miko asked, "What, are you doubting me? This is a great idea, you'll see!"

"Well… Are _you_ sure about this, Jack?" Deciding against arguing the point, Raf leaned far enough over to see around Miko and spot Jack trudging at the front. This was his guardian, after all. He was the one with the most to lose if this plan fell through.

Jack was contemplative during their walk, and didn't look either of them in the eye when he responded, "If anyone has a chance of finding my mom and Mr. Islam, it's Knock Out. He's the only one we know who's encountered MECH recently, and he told Bulkhead that he might know where they'd hiding."

Raf wasn't opposed to being the voice of reason. He rather liked helping, especially in dire situations when it was most critical to being thorough, but Raf couldn't say he enjoyed denying Jack's opinion. Raf genuinely liked Ms. Darby; she was gentle and kind, sometimes a bit more attentive than his own mom. She made sure to always have snacks when she visited the base in case they got hungry after school.

He missed her, too, and wanted her to get back safe. Ms. Darby had seen to his well-being, and it was only fair to return the favor. All the same, he reluctantly said, "Knock Out is still a Decepticon. Should we really trust him with rescuing anyone?"

"Raf, Raf, Raf," Miko tutted. The sound of her tongue clicking echoed loudly in the hallway. She slowed her pace to loop an arm around his shoulders, having to stoop a little given their height difference. "That's where you come in, remember? If you need one of those creeps to do what you want, then you've got to think like a Decepticon! If we can convince him that it's in his favor to help us, then it'll be easy."

"I don't get it," Raf confessed. "I know you explained that I could contribute, but you still haven't told me _how._ "

It was Jack who clarified, although he shifted uncomfortably before he said, "We might have to…concede something, a little? If we can give him some of his stuff back then maybe he'll listen to us."

"You guys want to _bribe him?_ " he asked. Jack winced, confirming it; whereas Miko didn't look anywhere near apologetic. Raf stopped in his tracks, incredulous that they'd even suggest a thing. Optimus Prime and the others made it clear that despite having the situation under control that Knock Out was not to be trifled with, and here his two friends were suggesting they do just that.

"Bribery is such a strong word. I liked my phrasing better—" Miko tried to say.

"This is super risky! We're not just thinking about letting him go, we're inviting him to head right at Ms. Darby a-and… What if we end up making things _worse?_ " Raf clutched his laptop close now, his fingers leaving sweaty imprints on the protective casing as he pressed it into his chest.

Everyone else had stopped in their procession, too. For once Miko didn't have anything to say, although her mouth was in a thin line. It was Jack who broke the silence, finally turning to face him. He seemed tired as he said, "I understand if you don't want to be a part of this. I really do. If you feel unsure or unsafe then you should go back home. You're probably the only one smart enough to do that."

Raf readied to protest, to which part he wasn't certain, but Jack cut him off. Not unkindly, he said, "I can't, though. The last time MECH captured my mom, she almost…" Jack bit his lip, having to gather his resolve. "We've got to do something before whatever MECH needs her for is successful because once she stops being of use to them…they'll hurt her. I can't let that happen, not again. And I can't do it alone."

"Yeah, just look at him, will ya? Jack is hopeless without you, Raf," Mike added, motioning both of her open hands in the other boy's direction.

His grip on the computer didn't relent, but his entire body slumped. Raf said, "I guess if you're going to talk with Knock Out anyway, then I might as well be there, too."

Miko cheered and fist-pumped into the air. "That's the spirit! Oh yeah, we're still in business, baby!"  
  
  
  
  
While exhausted, Knock Out refrained from truly shutting down – at least for extended periods. The Autobots had made it apparent that they didn't want to be around him more than they could stand, which suited him fine, but there was no indicating if or when that might change. He was unable to decipher any kind of timetable for his meetings with them, interaction limited to his repairs as they were. Furthermore, after that urgent message the group had become scarce.

Instead, Knock Out used his time more wisely. He didn't feign sleep so much as turn his attention inward; he needed to focus if he was to make sense of the events that led to his current predicament. MECH had gotten careless when they assumed he was debilitated, and if he could just make _sense_ of the jumbled memories then his incarceration wouldn't be in vain. Escaping the clutches of the Autobots was inevitable, as Knock Out figured it wouldn't take long for the enemy to slip up, but when he broke out he wanted to be prepared.

His recollection of the confrontation with MECH played out like a home movie that the humans were so fond of. The footage was broken up into multiple windows, and those were divided up by even more settings. Some of the video was sped up three-hundred times, whereas another might be slowed down to be freeze-framed. None exhibited sound – be it background or dialogue – as he isolated that to be completely separate and examined on its own.

So much of it was a garbled mess. Someone like Soundwave would be better suited for this task, retrofitted with the highest tech geared toward surveillance and tactical analysis. No doubt he had redundancies in place to defend against power surges. Knock Out was not so built, which vastly limited his scope.

Deciphering was a boring, menial task that Knock Out often passed off to the lower ranks. He was rusty at it, nevermind that was with Decepticon-grade tools at his disposal. All he had now were his default software, which was tedious and slow. He'd concentrated on one instance in particular to little avail.

_"MECH Base One, d-o you co-py, over?"_

Also not helping during the splicing process was having to listen to that annoying man's voice. It was Starscream-esque, meaning high-pitched and grating.

_"I re-peat, MECH B-ase One, do y-ou copy, over? … Yes, we- are ready to drop o-ff the target at your lo-cation at—"_

" _—_ lo? I said, _hellooo?_ "

All functions came to a dead stop. Knock Out didn't recall that particular line of dialogue, and it quickly became apparent that it wasn't from any of his past readings. A small opening in all of his programs revealed that he wasn't by himself. An adolescent human stood below his recharging station. The female with pigtails, Miko, was waving her arms to get his attention.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Miko yelled, "I can tell you're not really asleep and I know you can understand me! So pay attention when I'm talking to you."

Knock Out tilted his head and started closing everything down to clear his field of vision, finally able to identify the two other humans that were with her. It was the trio of Autobot mascots; though Knock Out could privately attest that his lack of recognition wasn't intentional. Knock Out just had difficulty sometimes distinguishing one human from another.

"Miko!" the tallest stage-whispered, bumping her in the side with an elbow. "Don't antagonize him from the get-go!"

The last of their group, which Knock Out's scans identified as the youngest, asked more loudly, "Um, Mr. Knock Out, sir? Can we talk with you for a second?"

Polite address or no, Knock Out made a wild grab at them. They collectively yelped and scrambled away in all directions, Knock Out coming up empty handed. In his hurry to capture them he overbalanced and rolled off his berth with a harsh series of clangs.

Shaking his head to re-orientate himself, he spotted one of the children under his resting place. Knock Out almost managed to nab the dark-haired male, but the human ducked under his bulkier frame. He smacked the back of his head on the underside of his bed when he couldn't back up fast enough to straighten himself.

"Hold still, you little vermin!" Knock Out said, growing increasingly frustrated as his attempts to apprehend them only ended with his humiliation. Pushing to his feet, Knock Out saw them racing for the door. Confident that his longer strides would beat them to the exit he ran after them. So focused on grabbing the girl as she dove for the crevice below the door, he would have caught her if weren't for him crashing into the metal, instead.

Knock Out kneeled, clawing at the thin opening, but no matter how he struggled his fingers were just too large to reach the other side. He pressed his cheek to the floor to try and peer through the gap. The three children were huddled together; the girl glared at him in front of the other two, who clung to her back.

"How's _that_ for gratitude? We were only going to be nice and make a deal with you!" Miko said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"You're cute if you think you possess any sway with me," Knock Out said. "Unless you can get me out of here, there's nothing I'd rather do than crush you!"

"Is that it?" she asked haughtily. One of her friends tried to hush her, but she ignored him to direct her statement to the male youth with a computer. "Show him what you got, Raf! Go on, prove to him that we're serious."

The boy with glasses slowly opened his computer and tapped a few keys, the latch above Knock Out's head giving with a soft _click_. The door automatically swung open; he only had to push it with a finger to get it to go all the way. Raising an eye ridge, he peered down at the children who were now completely exposed. The child known as Raf started to type something, the door moving to slam shut before Knock Out caught it with a hand.

"Wait, wait, wait! Let's be reasonable here," Knock Out said. When the door didn't smash on his fingers and lock itself closed, he gave his most disarming smile. "You mentioned some sort of deal? Well…I'm listening."

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content or [come say hi to me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snaurus)!


End file.
